Hunting Party
by CaddySam
Summary: Let it not be said that predators of different regions cannot hunt in the same one. Dexter, the one born in blood. Hannibal, the other with peculiar tastes. Though different, both are a kin to darkness. Will these two iconic killers resolve to keep themselves hidden or will they simply kill each other?


Miami, April 13

It was a typical day in Miami for Dexter Morgan. Dead body, weeping bystanders, blood everywhere; it was home. Crouching low over the poor gutless girl, Dexter expertly identified the initial entry wound that killed her. Her entrails had been removed post-mortem, the darkened blood pooled in her abdomen told that much.

_Blood always tells_, Dexter thought gleefully. It was a complicated love he had for blood. He had been born in it. No one else knew of his past but Harry, and even then, he didn't fully understand Dexter's darkness.

A weeping girl interrupted Dexter's thoughts. She flung herself towards the corpse, wailing the name of the victim. Two local policemen grabbed her by the arms and dragged her back towards the tape. Dexter was jostled forward, nearly planting a hand on the dead girl's face, by the clumsy local authority. Regaining his balance quickly, he shot a cold glance over his shoulder.

"Get behind the line, folks," Angel Batista's voice sounded authoritatively from behind Dexter's shoulder. Thankful for the breathing room, he continued analyzing. "What do we got, guys?" Angel was standing in front of Dexter on the other side of the body, talking to Vince Masuka, the other blood spatter analyst.

"Victim's entrails were removed post-mortem. Entry wound near the navel, which also happened to have the sweetest little belly button ring…" Masuka trailed off. He held up a tiny gold ring and studied it in the light.

"Alright, Vince," Angel growled, "Focus."

"Sorry, sorry," he apologized before continuing. "Entry wound likely killed the victim. Strangulation is also evident in the reddening of the neck tissue." He pointed to the girl's neck to make his point. "This poor, _attractive_ girl was strangled then gutted like a pig…"

Batista looked green. "Thoughts, Dexter?"

Dexter perked up, totally unaffected by the unusual carnage. "I can back up everything Vince said. Victim was likely strangled using a wound up cloth, or rope." Dexter looked on. "Oh, and most likely from behind," he noted, quickly. Dexter studied the girl's abdomen. This wasn't anything Dexter hadn't seen before, but there was something odd about the kill.

Whoever killed this girl, took the guts with them.

_Now why would you do that…?_

Baltimore, April 10

Sunlight poured through the red and white curtains of Hannibal Lecter's office, casting the room in a golden hue. It was mid-afternoon, and a fairly slow day. Hannibal had only three appointments booked, and he was certain his 4 o'clock would cancel. He wondered briefly if Will Graham would stop by his office later that evening, as he often did.

It had only been two weeks since they had first been introduced. Will was impeccably perceptive, and had a profound sense of empathy. His high powered senses were nothing compared to Hannibal's, for Will was just the young buck who had already proven to be mentally precarious.

Sighing, Hannibal looked at his father's pocket watch, tracing his slender finger along its face. Ever since developing his practice in Baltimore, Hannibal had led a carefully constructed, mundane life as a psychiatrist. His human veil kept him hidden in plain sight. No one truly knew who Hannibal was, and no one would ever find out. No one would ever discover all the skeletons he had packed in his closet or his need to eat unconventional food stuffs. Not even Will suspected anything of him.

Content, Hannibal shifted back and leaned deeply into his chair. Just as he closed his eyes, a soft rapping came from the other side of the heavy pine door. Though it was nearly four thirty, Hannibal was not expecting anyone. Curious, he rose grudgingly from his chair, and smoothed his hair before opening the door for his unexpected guest.

Of all people, it was Jack Crawford who stood in Hannibal's doorway.

"Good evening, Dr. Lecter," he said pleasantly enough, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

Hannibal hid his scowl with a contrived smile. In all honesty, he disliked Jack, to say the least. He found him annoying, the way he ordered Will around like an insolent child and distressed his mental state. As much as Hannibal worried for Will, it was mostly out of contempt for Detective Crawford.

"Not at all, Jack. Please, come in." With the wave of a hand, Hannibal beckoned Crawford in. as Jack walked by, a nauseating wave of cheap cologne assaulted Hannibal's elite sense of smell. It took all the strength he had not to grimace against the odor. "And to what do I owe the pleasure, Jack?"

"Well, actually, Dr. Lecter," he began, a broad smile on his face, "I wanted to ask you on your opinion of Miami, Florida."

Hannibal was unable to hide his surprise. A frown crossed his face. "Jack… Eh…? I don't…" the normally graceful psychiatrist stammered.

"Well, Dr. Lecter, I've just had the opportunity to send a few of my colleagues down to Miami Metro Police Department…." He trailed off deliberately. Hannibal's eyebrows raised in interest, urging him to continue. "And I am going to send Will Graham down with them."

Immediately, Hannibal bristled with anger. "And you think this is a good idea?" The psychiatrist couldn't help but show the contempt in his voice. How dare Jack Crawford come here, in Hannibal's own office, and send Will off to another state without first consulting him?

This was dangerous ground Jack was tracking on.

Fortunately for both men, Jack's cellphone rang. He let it ring once or twice before answering it, all while smiling proudly at Hannibal. Hannibal motioned towards the waiting room door, dismissing Jack. After he left, Hannibal leaned against the door, his hands clenched tightly in fists. Jack Crawford was a fine behavioural scientist, that much Hannibal could admit, but his over-inflating ego often got in the way of his charm.

Rolling his eyes, Hannibal trudged over to his desk.

"Miami, Florida…" he mused. "I wonder what's so interesting over there?"


End file.
